Saints and Angels

I still believe we can expect the best
(Expect the worst, and yet deny despair);
I still delight in gazing at your hair
(And other things – ho, there's a hornet's nest!);
The sun, behind you in the distant west
(And much obscured by the bright smile you wear),
Grants you a crisp halo, in the sharp air
(Are you a saint? Is this another test?).

We should be happy, if you are a saint
(We are both saints), and if the setting sun,
No brighter than a bit of yellow paint
(Mixed in a jam jar, not too thick to run),
Does humbly worship you, without restraint.
(I do. You are an angel. Act like one.)

Our Hearts, part 23